I
Shortly
after our arrival in Dawson when Pearce and I stood in front of the Dominion
Bar to get a drink, our reflections in the mirror resemble a couple of hobos.
Two men who looked just as unkempt and forbidding as these reflectins of
ourselves set up a tent near our cabin until they could arrange for more
permanent winter quarters. They asked to be allowed to put up their provisions
in our cache for the time being, to keep them from the depredations of predatory
Malamoot dogs, whose underfed condition kept them constantly on the lookout
for an opportunity for theft, and from light-fingered marauders of our own
breed. This led to an acquaintanceship which an occasional evening in our
cabin ripened into friendship. One of these men was of medium height with
very square broad shoulders. His face was marked by a thick stubbly beard.
A cap was pulled down low on the forehead was the one touch neccessary to
complete the concealment of head and features, so that that part of of the
anatomy one loos to for an index of character was covered with beard and
cap. He looked as tough and as uninviting to us as we doubtless looked to
him On a box, out of the circle of light from the lamp, he sat in silence
one night, (November, 17, 1897) as a confusing blur of cap, mackinaw, and
moccasins. Conversation turned to the subject of Socialism. Some of those
present confused it with anarchism. One of our number, who at least knew
more of the subject than the rest of us, clarified it somewhat with his
greater knowledge, but this was soon exhausted. Then from out of the shadow
of the lamp, from the blur of beard and cap, came a quick-speaking, sympathetic
voice. He took up the subject from it's earliest history, carried it on
through a rapid survey of it's most important points and held us thrilled
by the hypnotic effect which a profound knowledge of a subject expounded
by an exalted believer always exerts. Intellectually he was incomparably
the most alert man in the room, and we felt it. Some of us had minds as
dull as putty, and some of us had been educated and drilled into a goose
step of conventinalism. Here was a man whose life and his thoughts were
his own. He was refreshing. This was my first introduction to Jack London.
[SIDE NOTE An intimate associate of Jack London in the Socialist movement
was Anna Strunsky. Judge Bond's journal at New Park (described at the beginning
of TCOTW) says: "Aug., 13, 1905, Count A. M. Lockwitsky and Anna Strunsky
came from San Francisco to spend Sunday and remained overnight. She has
the characteristics of genius. Though only 22 she has a wide knowledge of
literature and great talent for writing and speaking. she is a radical socialist."]
II
The two dogs we took into the Klondike with us were fine specimens. One
of them in particular had characteristics of such fine excellence as to
be called character. He had a courage that, though unagressive, was unyeilding;
a kindness and good nature that the most urbane man in the world might have
observed with profit, and a willngness to do his work, and an untiring energy
in carrying it out. I have had too much loyalty and affection from dogs
to doubt that they have souls if men have them. Lndon liked these dogs,
and particularly this one which I called Jack. His manner of dealing with
dogs was different from anyone I knew, and I remarked it at the time with
interest. Most people, including myself, pat caress, and talk in more or
less affectionate terms to a dog. London did none of this. He always spoke
and acted towards the dog as if he recognized it's noble qualities, respected
them, but took them as a matter of course. It always seemed to me that he
gave more to the dog than we did, for he gave understanding. He had an appreciative
and instant eye and he honored them in a dog as he would in a man.
III
During the winter I was busily engaged in mining on Eldorado Creek and
saw London only occasionally. He went on several sled trips to locate
claims in remoter districts, and observed and drank in the life about
him. Prior to the Klondike experience he had two large adventures in
life. While still a boy he had been a tramp and hoboed it about the
country gaining the point of view of, and developing great sympathy
with, this element. Then he had served as a seaman on a sailing schooner
off Japan and in the Bering Sea. He was still a youth in his early twenties.
From a monetary point of view his experience in the Klondike was profitless.
Outside of the rare piece of luck which occasionally leads a man to
set his stakes on a bonanza piece of ground, mining success calls for
kowledge of the subject and a certain, if not decided business faculty.
London lacked both. He had the misfortune to develop scurvy, and left
on a down river boat in the early summer, paying his passage, I believe,
by as much work as was possible in his condition.
IV
His home at that time was but a small affair and scantily furnished.
The room in which he worked contained a desk, a typewriter, and behind
his chair in easy reach were the works of Herbert Spencer, Huxley, Darwin,
and other authors. "I had to first read all these," he explained "to
get a basic knowledge for writing." "Does writing pay, Jack?" I asked
with the frankness of friendship. "He answered "I came out of the Klondike
broke, found that my father had died and left some debts. I have paid
up everything and am supporting three families.*
The first year I never got a thing accepted, and I began to get morbid
and believe that I got turned down because I was a socialist. I now
wonder how the first stuff that was finally accepted ever got by. But
it is hard work. He who waits for the muse to move him will never get
anywhere. I write five thousand words a day to discipline and command
myself. Much of it has to be torn up, but I make myself write it. Robert
Louis Stevenson said that there eventually comes a feeling of great
exaltation when a man realizes that he is the master of his tools. I
hope for that moment. System and precision characterized his work. Newspaper
clippings, articles from magazines and all data he wished to preserve
were neatly bound in folders, labelled and filed handy for use. He was
a tremendous worker, and an orderly one. He also visited me at my home
in Santa Clara, and his description of the place is the beginning of
"The Call of the Wild."
V
Later when he had become recognized as an author of distinction he was
sought after by many people of social prominence in and around San Francisco.
Once I chaffed him about being a social butterfly. He replied: "That
side of life had been denied me, and when I began to be asked to the
houses of prominent people I went to broaden my experience, and because
I believed it a complment to my efforts as an author. I was soondisillusioned
by the discovery that I was merely being used as an advertising medium
or possible feature of interest for other people's social functions.
My last hostess held almost no conversation with me, her time being
entirely taken up with another woman. in mutual recitation of the notables
they had met abroad. I think I have learned all that is neccessary from
such experiences and have cut them out." During the last years of his
life, after he had become a worldwide author, I regret that I never
saw him. I should like to have as personal recollections the man in
his maturity with all the added wealth to his virile mind that came
from work, rich experiences and notable success. During his period of
development the man was leonine in courage, brilliant in speech, loyal,
and independent. The impression lasts over all these years that "Here
was a man".
End of
Eulogy .
(Materials
by courtesy of Richard Bond)
*The
three households mentioned were his mother, his wife and Jennie Prentice
an educated and cultured black woman. This last figure is often forgotten
as an influence on Jack's development. She is also sometimes referred
to as his nursemaid when in fact she looked after him mostly for free
and had more money than Mrs London. One of her relatives a sea captain
was the one who persuaded Jack to go to sea. It is ironic that someone
who wrote papers criticizing Blacks, Jews and Greeks both accepted and
defended them as individuals. Jennie was black Anna Maloof was Arab and
Greek, Anna Strunsky was Jewish. Likewise his male friends came in every
description. As a half black I sometimes have to defend him against critics
who fail to grasp his complexity.
Richard Bond Jr
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